


Best Days of our Lives

by derryderrydown



Category: DCU - Comicverse, Teen Titans
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-14
Updated: 2009-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-02 17:31:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derryderrydown/pseuds/derryderrydown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While in progress, this was fondly known as 'The Bart/Tim Epic of Woobieness and Nothing Happening'. That's probably the best description of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Days of our Lives

"Morning, Bart." Joan swished the curtains back and Bart winced in the bright sunlight.

"Ow," he grumbled.

Joan simply smiled. "Breakfast in half an hour. I want you showered and dressed before you're at the table. And no speeding."

"I hate showers," Bart said. "The water takes so _long_ to fall."

Joan picked up yesterday's t-shirt from the floor. "Half an hour," she said. "Pancakes."

Bart waited till she was out of the door before wriggling out of bed and grabbing his robe from the back of the door.

Showers _did_ take too long, he decided, waiting underneath the showerhead. The JLA had the technology to alter gravity, at least on the moon, so they could probably increase the gravity in his shower, which would increase the weight of the water - though not the mass, of course.

Eventually, the first drops of water hit his skin and he was able to wash. Then he just had to tame his hair - which was easier now he kept it shorter, though it wasn't as much fun - and get dressed.

Which would leave him with about twenty-nine minutes before he had to be downstairs. Why did Joan make him get up so early? Those twenty-nine minutes could have been spent back in his dreams, and his dreams were way cooler than real life.

He sighed and headed downstairs.

Getting ready at speed wasn't as much fun without Max to tell him off for it.

* * *

It was weird to think he'd been at Keystone City High for a couple of months already. By the time he'd been at Manchester for a _week_, he'd had friends and enemies and a place in the school hierarchy.

At Keystone, he'd started off being swamped with people wanting to talk to him but all they'd been interested in was hearing about Jay Garrick and Wally West - and then just _Flash_, because of Spectre and Linda and all that. And once they'd come to the conclusion that Bart was just a normal person and not a ticket to dinner with superheroes, they'd all melted away and Bart was left trying to figure out where he fit in.

He missed Manchester. He missed Carol and Preston and Helen. And Max.

But the school bus was here and there was his familiar seat next to the short kid who just stared out the window and didn't answer when Bart tried to talk to him.

Thursday, Bart told himself. Only two days before he could escape to San Fran.

He sighed and opened up Huckleberry Finn in his mind.

* * *

First class was history, which was usually pretty easy to get through. He wondered what Kon and Tim were doing. Tim was probably correcting the teacher on some obscure little point. Bart smiled absently at the thought.

"Mr Allen."

Bart jerked his head off his hand. "Yes?"

"Perhaps you'd care to tell us who said, 'If this be treason, make the most of it'."

Bart blinked. "Nobody."

The class sniggered.

"I mean, it's attributed to Patrick Henry, in the Virginia House of Burgesses in May, 1765, but there's no indication in either the convention clerk's notes or in surviving correspondence that he said anything particularly exciting." Bart cocked his head, warming to his theme. "There was actually a French hydrologist there who said that Henry did say some fairly fervent things but then he apologised, 'if the heat of passion might have led him to have said something more than he intended' and said he was loyal to the king. So he probably didn't say all the stuff we're told he did."

Waiting outside the principal's office, Bart wondered if he'd ever make them understand that he really wasn't trying to be insolent.

Chemistry was just as boring. Everybody else might panic over a pop quiz on the periodic table but Bart's only worry was making sure he didn't get full marks, which would just mean another trip to the principal's office. He idly swapped technetium and ruthium and then used Uun for ununbium. That should be enough to scrape under the radar.

By lunchtime, Bart had had enough so he nipped over to Gotham, ran a quick recon on all the schools to find out which was Tim's and waited near-ish his classroom until he caught Tim heading off for lunch with a couple of friends. Of _course_ Tim had friends. Because he might be so smart he was freaky but that meant he was smart enough to pretend to be normal.

Tim was lucky.

Bart waved frantically and had the satisfaction of seeing Tim's mouth drop open a millimetre, before he said something to the boy he was with and jogged towards Bart. "What are you _doing_ here?" he asked urgently, voice low.

Bart shrugged. "I was bored so I came to visit. My school's lame and there's nobody to talk to there."

"So... This is purely a social call?"

"Well, yeah." Bart scratched his nose. "I wouldn't turn up for hero- Tit- work stuff. I was just bored and wanted somebody to talk to."

Tim studied him and Bart had the uncomfortable feeling that Tim was hearing everything Bart wasn't saying. Although perhaps not _everything_ because that would be the dreams as well and Tim wasn't running in horror. "Oh, man," Tim said after a moment. "Look, just let me explain to Bernard and Darla and then we can go grab a burger." Tim tilted his head slightly. "Perhaps a couple of burgers in your case, if you've run from Keystone."

Bart grinned. "And a _bucket_ of fries."

He waited impatiently while Tim talked to his friends, occasionally gesturing in Bart's direction. Finally, Tim and the blond boy strolled towards him and Bart shifted.

"Bart," Tim said, "this is Bernard. Bernard, Bart."

Bernard held out his hand and, confused, Bart shook it. "Pleased to meet you," Bernard said. "We were starting to think our Tim hadn't actually had a life before coming here. He could have been some sort of clone popped out of a test tube just in time for the start of term."

"One of my best friends is a clone," Bart said indignantly and then wished he hadn't because Tim made a sort of aborted wince.

Fortunately, Bernard smiled. "Now, you two run along and have a nice little chat. And make sure you're back in plenty of time for Ms Schwartz because I can't cover for you again without destroying my own reputation as a perfect angel."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Yes, Bernard."

Moments later, they were out on the street, following a stream of teenagers. "We aren't going to be able to talk in any place round here," Tim said. "Could you...?"

"Sure. Where should we go? San Fran?"

Tim didn't smile but there was a warmth in his eyes. "Gotham'll do. Take the second left-"

"Just give me the address," Bart said. He tapped his skull. "The library had a streetmap of Gotham."

"3862 Andersen Street, next to Borders."

Bart wondered, as he ran, if there was _any_ way he could carry Tim that wouldn't seem sexual. Cradled in his arms was just, well, _cute_. He'd settled for flinging Tim over his shoulder, which seemed appropriately careless only, on reflection, it was also a bit caveman. And it meant Tim's ass was right next to Bart's face, which was _seriously_ distracting. Bart wondered if he could get away with putting one hand on Tim's hip to 'steady' him. Only that smacked of copping a feel - which it would have been - so he resisted the urge.

Perhaps, on the way back, he'd just grab Tim's hand and tow him along in the slipstream.

He was still grinning about that when he screeched to a stop in a convenient alley.

"Hmm," Tim said, looking around, and it was a 'Well done, Bart' kind of 'Hmm' so Bart felt free to carry on grinning.

"Joan says I shouldn't speed unless I'm in uniform," he said. "But I figured I'd be more likely to stand out in my uniform and then you'd have to explain why a superhero was visiting you."

"Good reasoning," Tim said and led them out of the alley and into the lunchtime crush. The diner he headed for was pretty packed but there was a rickety table - a bit too small for adults - tucked into a corner so Bart and Tim settled there and waited for the frazzled waitress.

"How's school?" Bart asked after an awkward moment.

Tim's look was painfully blank and Bart almost winced at the lameness of his question. "Not bad," Tim said. "You?"

"It _sucks_. I mean, people just don't care about Kid Flash - and why should they when they've already got two Flashes?"

Tim's smile seemed directed more at himself than Bart. "It's meant to be about the satisfaction of helping people, Bart. Not about the glory."

"It isn't," Bart objected. "Well, not just. I like helping people. But is it so wrong to want a little thanks for it?" He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Don't know why I'm asking you. You don't even like people to know you _exist_."

They were interrupted by the waitress. Tim ordered a chicken caesar salad and a coffee. Bart ordered two cheeseburgers, three portions of fries and a coffee. When Tim raised an eyebrow, Bart reluctantly changed it to a Zesti.

"Out of consideration for your teachers," Tim said. "They'll be scraping you off the ceiling if you have coffee."

"Not with my metabolism. And the Zesti still has 39.2mg of caffeine in it," Bart said. "Although the coffee has around a hundred more than that."

"It's the principle," Tim said. "You're too young to start on coffee."

"I'm not that much younger than you," Bart said.

Tim studied him. "How old are you now?"

Bart shrugged. "Fifteen or so. Physically."

"Mentally?" Bart gave him a look and he altered it to, "Chronologically."

Bart shrugged again. "No idea. I mean, does subjective time count? Because if so, around the same. All the time I was in the VR and the eighteen months I was in the library - even the five minutes it took to get here. It all adds up."

Tim's expression turned thoughtful.

"What?"

"But, in subjective time, you don't age physically?"

Bart shook his head.

"So, if you spent ten years - subjective - speeding, you'd end up with the mind of a twenty-five-year-old in a fifteen-year-old body?"

The waitress gave them an interested look as she deposited coffee and Zesti. Tim wrapped his hands round his mug and waited until she was gone.

"Except," he continued, "you probably wouldn't. Because all that time in the VR didn't give you a normal fifteen-year-old's mind. And you didn't mature much while you were in the library either."

"Hey!" Bart objected.

Tim shrugged. "You learned a lot but you're not exactly more mature than when you went in. Or you wouldn't be complaining about people _not_ trying to find out your secret identity."

"I'm not," Bart said, shifting uncomfortably.

"Because if they _did_ want to find out, it wouldn't exactly be difficult," Tim said. "I mean, Jay Garrick, the first Flash, takes in a teenage ward, just as a teenage speedster turns up in town. That's even without them knowing you've got the same name as the second Flash." Tim shook his head. "Wally can be dense at times."

"But I'm learning stuff from Jay," Bart said. "He taught me how to vibrate my face, so nobody can recognise me. And other stuff, too. He's even teaching me how to run quietly." Bart took a slurp of his Zesti. "But I didn't come here to talk about superhero stuff."

Tim folded his hands on the table. "So what did you come to talk about."

Bart shrugged and moved his Zesti for the waitress to put down his plate. "I don't know. Just normal stuff. Like how boring chemistry is when you already know everything that's being covered. And how Mrs Provenst is _totally_ having an affair with Mr Woods."

"Except I don't know either Mrs Provenst or Mr Woods," Tim pointed out.

"Well, no," Bart admitted. "But Mrs Provenst is really ancient - at _least_ forty - and Mr Woods has got this huge bald spot that he tries to hide with a combover and it's totally _gross_ to think about them making out."

"Then don't think about it," Tim said, smiling slightly as he loaded his fork with salad.

"It's hard not to," Bart said earnestly. "It's like trying not to think about a pink elephant." He blinked. "Now I can't stop thinking about pink elephants."

Tim's smile grew a little. "So think about something else. Something pleasant."

Bart thought about a gargoyle in Gotham and beamed.

Tim narrowed his eyes but then he picked up a last piece of lettuce from his plate and ate it. "If you're finished, we'd better be heading back. Ms Schwartz'll be annoyed if I'm late again."

"Sure." Bart slurped the last of his Zesti, straw gurgling in desperation. He fished in his pocket for money but Tim shook his head.

"You provided transport," he said with a small smile. "I'll pay for lunch. Besides," he added, "we talked about work so I can write it off as expenses and claim it back from Batman."

"Really?" Bart asked. "Man, that's cool. Wonder if I can get Wally to-" He shook his head. "Nah. Batman must be, like, a multi-trillionaire. Wally's permanently broke."

Tim nodded towards the door. "Come on."

Bart followed Tim into the alley. "So..." Bart said. "What's the best way for me to carry you?"

Tim blinked. "Piggy back?" he suggested.

"Oh, yeah." Only, Bart reflected, that was just as distracting as having Tim's ass by his face because he could feel Tim's thighs tight around his hips and Tim's _arms_ were round his _shoulders_ and - Mrs Provenst and Mr Woods, he told himself firmly. Combovers and that big wobbly mole on Mrs Provenst's neck and her bright blue eyeshadow and Mr Woods' wobbly belly and Tim's taut, flat belly and...

He shook his head and put on a burst of speed.

* * *

"So," Bernard asked quietly, "who was the mysterious Bart?"

"Hmm?" Tim looked up from copying down the DOL from the board. "I told you. Just a friend from my old school. He'd moved out of town but he's back for a few days."

"You both vanished pretty quickly."

"He had his car parked round the corner." Lying was so easy. He probably should resent Bart for putting him in a position where he had to tell yet more lies but... It had been nice. Nice to just sit and talk about nothing in particular, without having to check every word, in case it said more than he wanted it to.

"Car? He didn't look old enough to have the training wheels off his bike."

"He's older than he looks."

Bernard rested his chin on his hand. "Seeing him again tomorrow?"

"We're meeting up for the weekend." Tim nodded towards Ms Schwartz. "Shh."

* * *

Jay and Joan liked Bart to at least check in at home before shooting off to the Tower, Normally, it was a case of coming in - slowly, always slowly - yelling a hello, then grabbing his bag and vanishing.

Today, Jay was seated on the sofa, looking serious. "Bart," Jay said and Bart stopped halfway up the stairs. "We need a word."

Uh-oh, Bart though and trudged back down. "What?" he asked, with his best wide-eyed-and-innocent look.

"We've had word from school that you left the grounds at lunchtime yesterday."

Bart let out a heavy sigh. "But school's _boring_. There's nobody to talk to. I just wanted to spend some time with my friend. Friends."

Jay frowned suspiciously. "Where did you go?"

"Just to a diner," Bart said.

"And where was the diner?"

Bart stared at his shoes. "Gotham," he admitted.

Jay sighed. "Bart, you _know_ there are two reasons you're living with us. One of them is so you can learn how to fit in. Normal teenagers do _not_ nip over to Gotham for lunch."

"But I'm _not_ normal!" Bart said. "And Robin understands that, and so do Kon and Cassie, and I'm fed up of having to be something I'm not!" He nearly shouted the last few words as he vibrated through the door and shot off.

He was halfway to the Tower when he became aware of Jay trailing him. It was easy enough to stay ahead of him but it just meant Jay would catch up at the Tower and then tell him off in front of Vic and Gar and, worst of all, Tim.

He was thinking ahead. Max would be proud.

Reluctantly, Bart trailed to a stop in the middle of nowhere. Acres of grass rolled on to the horizon in every direction and Bart's feet twitched as he fought the urge to run.

"You're not a normal teenager," Jay said, as though they hadn't run across a quarter of America since Bart had spoken. "But the point is that you have to be able to blend in as one."

"But I don't want to."

Jay smiled. "And, in some ways, you _are_ a normal teenager." He slowly lowered himself to the ground, then patted the grass next to him. "Sit down."

Bart threw himself down and crossed his legs. "Can you just lecture me and let me _go_? My friends are waiting."

"I don't want to lecture you. I want us to have a conversation so I can find out why you're unhappy and what we can do to help."

"Let me live at the Tower full time."

Jay looked at him, so earnest that Bart's urge to run doubled. "Would that really make you happy? Your friends wouldn't be there all the time because they'd still be at school. There'd just be you, Cyborg, Starfire and Beast Boy. And those three have got their own lives."

Bart picked at the grass. "Then you could let me go to the same school as Robin or Kon. Or even Cassie." He thought about it. "Which would be good, because Cissie and Greta are there too, but I think Elias only lets girls in."

"Robin and Kon both have their own lives, though. You might not fit in."

Bart sighed. "Suppose so. _And_ they're both juniors."

"So wouldn't it be better to make your own life in Keystone?"

"But I don't have any friends," Bart said quietly and didn't look up when Jay ruffled his hair.

"Then make some."

"_How?_"

"How did you do it in Manchester?"

Bart smiled at his boots. "Got the entire school into a big fight on the football field."

Jay chuckled and Bart looked up. "Maybe not in Keystone," Jay said.

"No," Bart said. "There'd be fatalities in Keystone."

"How about starting an extra-curricular activity?" Jay said. "Helen told me you and some of your friends in Manchester were always making films, so how about the film club?"

Bart shrugged. "Dunno. What if I'm needed as Kid Flash?"

Jay's smile was warm. "Keystone's got two Flashes. It can do without you for a couple of hours."

Bart shrugged again.

"You think about it," Jay said and climbed to his feet. "Let me know on Sunday what you want to do. And have a good time this weekend."

* * *

Bart arrived at the Tower just as the Batjet was leaving. He took a moment to drop his bag in his room, then headed for the roof. Tim was just starting down the stairs as Bart shot up them and Bart had to scrabble to avoid running him. "Um, hello," he said, suddenly feeling awkward.

"Hi, Bart."

Tim really didn't do facial expressions, Bart thought as he followed Tim downstairs, but he managed to say an awful lot with the tone of his voice. Right now, he was a little amused but mostly pleased to see Bart. "You didn't get into trouble, did you?" Bart said. "With, like, your school or Batman or anybody?"

Tim shook his head. "Batman just asked if you'd paid any attention to the meaning of 'subtle' when you read the library."

"I was subtle," Bart objected. "Nobody _saw_ me moving at superspeed."

"Except Oracle," Tim corrected. "Some of the cameras picked up a couple of blurred frames of you."

"Oh." Bart thought about it. "Guess I'd better be more careful next time."

"Yes," Tim said, and turned into the briefing room.

It was only as he sat down that Bart realised Tim hadn't told him to stay away from Gotham. He beamed.

* * *

The weekend had been quiet so far. On Saturday morning, Cassie, Kon and Kory transferred a couple of prisoners to Alcatraz while the others occupied themselves in the Tower. As lunchtime approached, Bart worked up the courage to track Tim down. He was in his room, doing something on his laptop.

"Do you want to go to lunch?" Bart asked.

Tim looked up. "Where?"

Bart ran through a couple of entertainment guides in his head. "I know where there's a good seafood restaurant?"

The laptop beeped as Tim closed it. "Seafood sounds good. Just let me get changed."

* * *

Bart glanced at Tim's backpack under the table. "Have you got your Robin suit in there?"

Tim smiled and Bart noted that he used far more facial expressions when he was in civvies. "Of course."

"Huh. Glad mine's smaller," he said and held out his right hand with his ring on. "Much easier."

"Did you get into trouble for Thursday?" Tim asked.

Bart shrugged. "Not really _trouble_. But freshmen aren't supposed to leave school grounds until the end of the day and they told Jay. Who's making me do some kind of extra-curricular as punishment."

"Punishment?" Tim raised an eyebrow.

"He thinks it'll help me make friends. And then I won't want to skip out of school. Or something." Bart ate a mouthful of his swordfish. "How do _you_ cope? With having to pretend to be normal all the time?"

Tim shrugged. "I grew up normal. It's just a case of going on with what I know."

"See, that's it," Bart said through a mouthful of salad. He swallowed quickly. "I don't _know_ how I'm supposed to behave, because everybody behaves differently and none of it makes any sense. I thought I knew because in Manchester it all just worked but it's different in Keystone." He stared at his plate and quietly said, "And I don't know how to make friends."

Tim thoughtfully swallowed a couple of spoonfuls of conch chowder. "I can't help you much there. I've been the new guy often enough but it's always been a case of some of the established kids deciding to make friends with me. But you've been at Keystone long enough that that's not going to happen now."

"So I'm stuck with no friends. Great."

"Not necessarily. I think Jay has the right idea."

"Oh." Bart blinked. "But what should I do?"

"What do you want to do?"

Bart lobbed the remains of his roll at Tim's head and instantly regretted it. Way to look like a _kid_. "Sorry."

"Which group has the kind of people you'd want to be friends with? I mean, I can't see you with the jocks, which steers you away from sports. And you haven't exactly got the patience for chess."

"Plus, they're all dweebs."

Tim smiled. "So what's left? Any drama, anything like that?"

Bart pulled a face. "_Pretentious_ dweebs." He poked at his last few scraps of salad. "Jay suggested the film club."

Tim nodded encouragingly. "That sounds good."

"Film club then." Bart pushed his plate away. "Do you want a dessert?"

Tim shook his head. "You?"

Bart thought about it, then shook his head. "There's raspberry fudge ripple ice cream back at the Tower."

"Sure. I've just got to-" Tim nodded towards the mens room.

"Okay," Bart said and watched Tim go. Strange, he thought, that Tim's ass actually looked better in jeans than in his uniform. He cleared his throat as the waiter approached with the check, feeling a little guilty. Although he didn't know why because he wouldn't mind Tim checking out _his_ ass.

He was so distracted by the thought of Tim's ass that he didn't look at the check until he saw Tim heading back to the table. Bart checked the total, then checked it again. And again. He was still checking it when Tim arrived.

"What's up?" Tim asked, dropping into his seat and taking the check from Bart.

"The guide said it was inexpensive," Bart whispered urgently.

Tim glanced at the check. "It is, for the standard of the place."

Bart decided that, next time Jay took them out for dinner, he'd suggest somewhere a bit more upmarket than IHoP.

"Do you not have enough?" Tim said.

"I have enough for me," Bart said and picked at the crumbs on the table. "But I wanted to pay for both of us."

Tim smiled. "Don't worry. It's not like it's a date."

Bart swallowed and watched Tim's smile fade.

"Oh," Tim said quietly.

Bart slammed his money on to the table and left at top speed.

* * *

Bart spent the rest of the day patrolling and didn't go back to the Tower until after midnight. And he probably should have thought about the fact that darkness was Robin's natural habitat _before_ Tim emerged from the shadows by Bart's bedroom door.

"Hi," Tim said quietly.

"Hi," Bart told his boots.

"Do you think we should talk?"

"No."

Tim didn't smile, not even with his voice. "I do."

Bart sighed and opened his bedroom door. "Guess you'd better come in, then."

"Vic asked what happened," Tim said, settling on Bart's chair. "I told him you were bored of not getting to do much heroing at home."

"I checked in," Bart said resentfully. "I told him what I was doing."

"He worries. About us all. Especially you."

"Why me?"

"You're the youngest. He was with you during your operation." Bart thought Tim might be frowning, just a little, behind the mask. "He _likes_ you, Bart."

"Huh." Bart dropped on to his bed and wrapped his arms round himself. "So, you going to say your bit? 'I like you, Bart, _but_'."

Tim was silent. "I don't actually know what I'm going to say. Other than that it was a surprise."

Bart shrugged. "Don't know why."

"This," Tim said as he studied his gauntlets, "is a very strange conversation."

"Then end it. Say your little 'I don't think of you like that' piece and leave me alone."

"I told you," Tim said. "I don't know what to say."

Bart lay back on his bed and glared at Tim. "Then you should probably go. We have to be up in the morning."

Tim's head dropped a fraction of an inch. "You don't sleep much anyway."

"How do you know?"

"I hear you at night."

"Oh." Bart fiddled with a fold of his duvet cover. "Guess you don't sleep much, either."

"Not at night." Tim was smiling with his voice. "But I should let you try. I just wanted to say, well, nothing's changed."

"Everything's changed. You know and you don't feel the same, so everything's changed."

"Bart." Tim sounded frustrated and Bart looked up. "I keep telling you. I don't _know_ how I feel."

"You didn't say that." Bart clenched his fist and swallowed the brief surge of hope. "You said you didn't know what to say. That's not the same."

"No," Tim agreed after a moment. "It isn't. I should have been more precise." He stood up and pushed the chair back under Bart's desk. "Sleep well."

As if, Bart thought, he was going to get _any_ sleep tonight.

* * *

Bart waited as long as possible before going home. He and Kon always did, hanging around on the roof of the Tower until they couldn't delay the inevitable any longer. Tonight, they sat on the edge, legs hanging over the drop.

"How long have we known each other?" Kon asked.

Bart kicked his feet against the wall and shrugged. "I dunno. Couple of years or so."

Kon smiled. "And I still practically have a heart attack when you shoot down the side of a building instead of using the stairs."

"Really?" Bart twisted to look at him. "But you know I run fast enough that I won't fall."

"I know." Kon shrugged. "There's always a little part of me that screams, 'He can't _fly!_'"

"I've flown a couple of times," Bart said. "It was cool. I prefer running, though." He reached down to fiddle with his boot. "How about when Tim jumps off a roof?"

Kon looked thoughtful. "I never worry about Tim. Well, not like that. I mean, if his line snapped, he'd probably have already arranged for a giant eagle to rescue him or something."

"Like in Lord of the Rings," Bart said.

"Yeah," Kon agreed. "Like in Lord of the Rings."

"Kon," Bart said, staring at the setting sun, "what do you think of Ian McKellen?"

When he turned to look, Kon was looking suspicious. "Is this a trick question?"

"No. Just - what do you think of him?"

Kon shrugged. "I don't, really. I mean, he's a good actor?"

"It doesn't bother you that he's gay?"

"No." Kon was looking even more suspicious. "What's this leading up to?"

Bart looked back to the sun and sighed. "Nothing, really. Just wondering."

Kon punched Bart's shoulder lightly. "You're _weird_," he said but there was so much affection in his voice that Bart just smiled.

"Yeah," he said, then sighed. "Guess we should be getting back."

"Back to the cows," Kon said dismally.

"And the apple pie."

"Yeah." Kon sounded a bit more cheerful. "Apple pie."

Bart paused on the verge of taking off down the side of the tower. "Sometimes I worry about Tim," he said and left.

* * *

Tim went straight from the airport to the Cave. Bruce was at the computer and Tim glanced over his shoulder at the screen. "Ivy?"

"Two children have gone missing in Robinson Park."

Tim nodded sharply and started changing. He was on his way out when Bruce looked over at him.

"Did you have a good weekend?"

He paused and considered it. "Interesting."

* * *

"Nice weekend?" Jay asked as Bart vibrated through the front door.

Bart actually considered it for a moment. "Weird," he said and went up to his room.

Jay knocked on his door and popped his head round just as Bart was shoving his bag into the closet. "You might want to put your dirty laundry in the hamper," he said mildly.

Bart sighed and emptied his bag on to the floor.

"Weird?" Jay said as he came in. "I didn't see anything on the news."

"Not that kind of weird," Bart said and collapsed into his baseball beanbag. He stared at Jay for a moment. Jay had dated, right? Even if it _was_ about a century ago. "I had a date," he said shortly.

"Oh." Jay blinked. "With... Wonder Girl?"

"Nah. She's going out with Superboy."

Jay looked worried. "Raven?"

"No way!"

Now Jay looked even more worried. "_Starfire?_"

Bart burst out laughing. "_No._ But it went weird. And I don't know if it was a good date or not." He pulled a face. "Well, I'm pretty sure it was a bad date because I couldn't afford to pay for both of us. But other than that."

"If you didn't spend all your money on video games..."

Bart rolled his eyes and kicked against the beanbag.

"Well, are you seeing her again?"

Bart frowned. "I never thought to ask."

"How about giving her a call tomorrow and asking?"

"Yeah." If he went straight to Gotham first thing, he could catch Tim before school started. He grinned. "Yeah, I'll do that."

* * *

Of course Tim was dead on time, Bart thought, watching him walk towards the tree where Bernard was waiting. Because anything else would be inefficient.

Tim hesitated, then turned round and his eyes widened for a moment, before he headed towards Bart. "I thought you weren't allowed off campus," Tim said.

"I'm not. But school hasn't started yet." Bart shifted his weight awkwardly. It had seemed so _easy_ when Jay suggested it. "I was just wondering if you maybe wanted to go somewhere after school? For, like, a coffe? Or something?" He watched as Tim's face settled into a slight frown.

"Do you mean a date?"

"Yes. No. Um." Bart smiled sheepishly. "Depends?"

Tim's frown continued for a moment. "Okay," he said finally. "The same diner as before. Four-thirty this afternoon?"

Bart grinned. "Sure!" He half-turned before looking back at Tim. "Is it a date?"

Tim considered him. "It's a date."

* * *

Bernard was waiting under the tree. "I thought Bart was just in town for the weekend," he said.

"Turns out he can stick around for a few days longer."

"And will you be seeing him tonight?"

Tim checked his watch. "We're grabbing a coffee. Come on, it's time for homeroom."

Bernard didn't move. "If Bart were a girl," he said with studied casualness, "people would be talking."

"Would they?" Tim said evenly and left. "Mr Kirk won't be happy if you're late," he called over his shoulder.

Bernard glanced over at Bart before following.

* * *

Bart stood at the bottom of the stairs. "Jay?" he said.

Jay looked up from his newspaper. "Hmm?"

"Could I have an advance on next week's allowance?" He frowned. "Actually, and the week after that."

Jay put his newspaper down. "Does this mean she did want to see you again?"

Bart grinned. "Yeah. Tonight. And I want to have enough money this time."

Jay looked at him for a long moment and Bart did his best to look sensible and responsible and, well, slow. "You'll be back by eight," Jay said and reached into his pocket. "Are you going to tell me this girl's name?" he asked, opening his wallet.

"Um," Bart said. "I can't. Batman won't let anyone else know."

Jay shut his wallet. "_Batgirl?_"

"No." Bart twitched in place, too fast for anyone but a speedster to see. "It's." And he didn't really think Jay would be _bothered_ by the whole gay thing but saying Tim's name would make it all kind of _official_ and that was scary. Nice scary, though. "It's Robin."

Jay blinked. "Oh," he said, and he sounded a little strangled. "Does Batman know?"

"Probably. He's _Batman_."

"Right." Jay pulled a twenty out of his wallet and held it out. Bart zipped over and grabbed it before Jay could change his mind.

* * *

Bart watched the clock. Why hadn't he _thought_? Half past four in Gotham was half past three in Keystone. And school didn't finish until twenty-five past three. He tapped his pen against his fingers and realised he'd slipped into subjective time when the teacher suddenly stopped talking about Romeo and Juliet and Mercutio and Tybalt and all the rest of it. He was so wired up to run that it was difficult to shift back to normal time but the thought of being stuck here for a subjective hour made him shudder so hard he made the shift without noticing.

He focused on Mrs Provenst's mole and tried hard to listen to how Mercutio was a force within the play, functioning to deflate the possibility of romantic love and the power of tragic fate. It had been more interesting when he read it, rather than with Mrs Provenst droning on in her nasal voice. Then again, Romeo and Juliet had been quite cool when he read it but Mrs Provenst made it boring. It made him glad they weren't doing Huckleberry Finn because he'd enjoyed reading that and he didn't want Mrs Provenst to kill it.

He sighed and shifted position.

"Mr Allen."

Bart blinked and looked up.

"What was I just saying?"

Hadn't she learned by now that Bart could _always_ answer that question? Most of the other teachers had. "You were saying that Friar Lawrence is the sole figure of religion in the play and also the most scheming and political of the characters. He agrees to marry Romeo and Juliet not out of any great belief in their love but because he sees it as a way to end the civil strife in Vero-"

"That's enough." Mrs Provenst glared at him and her mole wobbled in righteous indignation.

And then the bell rang and, along with the rest of the class, Bart hurled his notebook, text and pen into his bag and shot out the door.

"Bart!"

He screeched to a stop in the corridor and turned round. "Gillian?" Gillian Lansing. Why was she speaking to him? And, more importantly, was it something that was going to make him late for Tim? He glanced at his watch.

"Sorry to keep you," Gillian said and clutched her clipboard tighter. "Just thought I should let you know that the film club meeting's been moved forward - it'll be tomorrow instead of Wednesday."

"Oh." Bart blinked. "Um, thanks for letting me know."

Gillian shrugged. "No problem. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Yeah, tomorrow."

She didn't say anything more but she didn't turn away.

"I've kind of got to go," Bart said. "I'm meeting someone."

"Oh, sorry." Her eyes were wide. "I just." She bit her lip. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah," Bart said and as soon as he was out of sight he sped into his Kid Flash suit and took off.

* * *

Bart was changed and at the diner by twenty-seven minutes past four. He managed to wait outside for sixteen seconds before going in to snag 'their' table. Well, they'd sat there before. So it was their table. Sorta.

Twenty-eight minutes and nineteen seconds past and there was still no sign of Tim. Or the Zesti Bart had ordered at least twelve seconds ago.

Tim wasn't going to show up. He'd probably forgotten about it. Or he'd gone off with that blond boy or the pretty dark-haired girl instead. Or giant monsters had invaded Gotham and Tim had had to go and stop them.

Or Batman had decided he didn't want Robin dating the former Impulse and had locked Tim in the Batcave. Or maybe just loomed over him and ordered him not to go. Only that wouldn't actually _stop_ Tim. Unless he was regretting agreeing to the date anyway.

Twenty-eight minutes and thirty-two seconds past. Why did everything have to be _slow?_ Why had Bart gotten here early? He should have been late. Or dead on time. Tim would walk through the door - if he was _going_ to walk through the door - dead on half past and it was still only twenty-eight minutes and thirty-three seconds past, according to Bart's watch.

Only Bart's watch must be wrong because Tim had just walked in.

"You're early," Bart said.

"So are you," Tim pointed out and there was a smile in his voice.

"I'm always early. Or late. But you're always dead on time."

Tim slid into the other seat and shrugged. "Have you ordered anything?"

"Just a Zesti. Do you want anything?"

"I need a coffee."

Bart sat up straight and looked eagerly at Tim. "Why? Were you doing exciting stuff last night? Tonight?"

Tim leaned forward. "Bart," he said quietly, "if we talk about work, I put this on expenses. And then it isn't a date."

Bart blinked. "Oh," he said. "Um, have you read any good books lately? Books that had absolutely nothing to do with work?"

It was a shame the mask covered Tim's eyes, Bart thought absently, because he liked to look at them. Especially when Tim was using them to smile at him. "No good books. How about you? Signed up for film club?"

"Yeah, first meeting's tomorrow. We're watching Blithe Spirit. Apparently Gillian, the president, is a big fan of Noel Coward. I've read Blithe Spirit but I've never seen the film and I'm really looking forward to it. Because Lean wasn't frightened to address the homosexual issues surrounding TE Lawrence in Lawrence of Arabia so I'm wondering how he'll have dealt with Coward and the way that his romantic couples are generally weary of normative sexual relations and disenchanted with bourgeois sexual attitudes."

Tim raised an eyebrow.

"I read it somewhere," Bart mumbled. Tim would have been able to come up with something like that _without_ pretty much quoting. Tim was smart.

They were interrupted by the waitress with Bart's Zesti. She glanced between them, notebook in hand. "Ready to order?"

"Cheeseburger and fries, please," Bart said.

Tim didn't quite smile as he glanced at Bart. "I'll have the same. And a coffee. No." Now, he was smiling, or at least Tim-smiling. "Make that a Diet Zesti."

"I thought you said you needed a coffee," Bart said, trying not to look worried.

Tim shrugged. "I'm drinking too much of it. It's unhealthy."

"And you think _Zesti_ is better?" Bart asked in disbelief. "I mean, even the diet - don't you know some artificial sweeteners are carcinogenic?"

"I know," Tim said. "But I like to live dangerously."

And that. That was Tim's _foot_. Pressing against Bart's. And, wow, he was playing footsie with Robin and wasn't that the cue for Batman to show up and loom at him?

"Earth to Bart," Tim said in a low voice.

"I'm here," Bart said quickly. "I was just wondering if Batman was going to show up and threaten me."

"If he does," Tim said, "I'll threaten him right back."

And Tim's foot was still pressing against his and all Bart could do was grin stupidly.

Because he'd had _thoughts_ about dating Tim. Well, not so much _dating_ Tim as pushing Tim up against a gargoyle and doing relatively unspecified things involving bare skin and hands and Tim's mouth. Whatever - they were very definite thoughts. And they'd _never_ included playing footsie in a Gotham diner while waiting for cheeseburgers.

In fact, Bart was starting to realise they'd been thoughts about Robin (which was probably why they usually involved night and gargoyles and, quite frequently, Robin's cloak). Whereas Tim was... Well, Robin wouldn't play footsie while talking about Noel Coward, which meant that Tim was just _better_.

Bart glanced up at the door and just managed to stop himself frowning. Even if Tim did come complete with annoyingly tall, blond, handsome-if-you-like-that-kind-of-thing friends. "Isn't that your friend?" he asked, nodding at the door.

Tim twisted round and Bart felt a surge of happiness when Tim's eyes hardened for a moment. "Yes," he said and Bart was glad Tim never used that tone of voice with him.

But now - Bernard? - was closer and smiling airily. "Well, hello," he said, snagging a chair and pulling it up to Bart and Tim's table. "I didn't expect to see you two here."

"No," Tim said, "I didn't expect to see you either. Don't you live over on the _other_ side of school?"

"I like to travel," Bernard said absently, gaze fixed so tightly on Bart that he couldn't help shifting uncomfortably. "And this is a delightful opportunity to find out more about the lucky young man who's been taking up so much of your time."

Bart looked desperately at Tim.

"I told you, Bernard," Tim said smoothly. "Bart was at Brentwood with me until he had to move out of town to live with his uncle."

"So where do you live now?" Bernard asked, without taking his eyes off Bart.

"Um, Keystone." And hopefully that wouldn't clash with anything Tim had said.

"_Keystone?_" Bernard asked, with something approaching horror. "What on earth took you out _there?_"

Bart couldn't help the quick grin that flashed on to his face as he glanced at Tim. "It's a long story," he started.

"And not something you have to go into," Tim interrupted.

"I don't mind," Bart said. "See, I was born in the thirtieth century, with a hyper-accelerated metab-"

"Bart," Tim said warningly.

Bart held his gaze for longer than he'd _ever_ thought he'd be able to challenge Robin, then sighed. "My uncle got a new job out in Keystone," he said. "But the other story would have been far more interesting."

"Yes," Tim said mildly, taking his Zesti from the waitress. "It would have been."

"You ordering?" the waitress asked Bernard.

"You don't mind if I sit with you, do you?" Bernard asked.

Tim sighed. "Of course not."

* * *

"Wow," Bart said, standing in the alley beside the diner. "That date _sucked_."

"That," Tim said, "was not a date. That was an extended exercise in maintaining a cover identity. I didn't think we'd ever get rid of him."

"And I didn't get to pay for us," Bart said, feeling for the folded up note in his pocket.

"Give me your receipt. I'm putting this one on expenses." While Tim tucked the receipt into his wallet, he said, "Do you want to give this date thing another try?"

"Of course!" Bart paused to think. "That is, if you do."

"We could try something less complicated," Tim said after a moment. "You could just come round to my place and hang out." His slight frown eased. "Of course, this time you'd have to be a friend from Grieve rather than Brentwood."

"I think I can remember that," Bart said. "When? Tomorrow?"

"You've got film club tomorrow."

Bart waved his hand. "I can skip it."

"No, you can't," Tim said. "What about making friends? And you said you wanted to see Blithe Spirit."

"I want to see you more." Bart kind of wished he hadn't said that, even if it was true.

"Wednesday," Tim said firmly. He pulled Bart's backpack off his shoulder and rummaged through it for a notebook and pen. "Here's my address." He glanced up, amusement in his eyes. "I'm guessing you'll be able to find it okay."

Bart grinned.

"Wednesday, five o'clock. Dana, my stepmother, will probably want you to stay for dinner."

And Bart was pretty sure he didn't need to worry about it but he wanted to be certain, so he said, "Your dad - he's not Batman, is he?"

Tim stared at the floor for a long moment and there was a tightness around his mouth that meant he was having trouble not smiling. "No. Absolutely not. And he doesn't know anything about that side of things."

"Right." Bart shoved his notebook back in his bag. There didn't seem to be anything more to say, so he shifted awkwardly. "Um. Can I give you a lift home?"

"It's probably best if you don't," Tim said.

"Right." Bart bit his lower lip and wondered how you were meant to start kissing someone because Carol had kissed _him_ and he didn't have any experience with actually _starting_ something like that. So, in the end, he just zipped over to Tim, kissed him quickly and zipped back to where he'd been.

Tim touched his lips. "Did you just kiss me?"

Bart stared at his shoes. "Um. Yeah."

When he looked up, Tim was standing a lot closer. And leaning closer still. And then, then his mouth was on Bart's and this kiss was slow and Tim's tongue was touching his lips and Tim tasted of cheeseburger and Zesti and his hand was on Bart's wrist and Bart was leaning against the wall and Bart was going to die any moment now.

Finally, Tim pulled back and he did that thing where he smiled without actually moving his mouth. "See you Wednesday," he said and slung his backpack over his shoulder.

Still leaning against the wall, Bart watched him go and beamed at the dumpster opposite.

* * *

The make-up, Bart decided, was odd. And the special effects were absolutely _lousy_. But the film had been made in the olden days, so that wasn't too surprising. And actually seeing the play performed - even with the inevitable alterations for screen instead of stage - was really pretty cool.

He blinked as Gillian turned the lights back on and stopped the DVD.

She cleared her throat nervously and glanced around the dozen or so people in the room. "There's a couple of new people this afternoon," she said and crossed her arms. "So I'll just mention that we normally have a discussion about the film before we leave. Anybody?"

Bart twisted round to look behind him. Eric Tong and Gary Sibewski continued stolidly transferring popcorn to their mouths. Julie Carver and Rhys Dealler were sitting so close together and concentrating so hard on Gillian that Bart was sure they'd been making out until just before the lights came back on.

"Anybody?" Gillian said again, sounding increasingly desperate.

"Coward had a pretty negative view of relationships," Bart said, taking pity on her.

Gillian's face lit up as she looked at him. "What makes you say that?"

Bart shrugged. "Well, you look at this, at _Vortex_, at _Private Lives_ \- even _Brief Encounter_. They're all about how, even if you love somebody, the love doesn't survive being _with_ the person for any length of time." And he'd never actually spent a great deal of time with Tim. It was mainly weekends and perhaps they _shouldn't_ spend too much time with each other in case Coward was right and, oh, Gillian was talking.

"Anybody?" she asked and the room stayed obstinately quiet. After a moment, she said, "But then you've got _In Which We Serve_, where the relationships are so totally solid and survive everything."

Bart frowned in thought. "I haven't seen that one," he said, "but isn't it a propaganda film? So it can't really be included with his other stuff because it wasn't written for the same reason."

Gillian seemed to shrink in on herself. "Yeah," she said. "I suppose you're right." There was a long pause and she finally said, "I guess that's all. Anyone got any suggestions for what we should watch next week?"

"Child's Play," said Eric, just as Gary said, "Nightmare on Elm Street."

"Four Weddings and a Funeral," said Julie, clinging to Rhys' hand. Rhys said nothing.

Gillian sighed. "Any other suggestions?"

A boy Bart didn't recognise cleared his throat. "Citizen Kane?"

Gillian beamed gratefully. "Everybody okay with Citizen Kane?" There wasn't a sound. "Citizen Kane it is. We're back to the normal night next week."

In the noise of everybody picking up their bags, Gillian materialised by Bart, notebook clutched to her chest. "I was wondering," she began, before clearing her throat and looking fixedly at Bart's shoulder. "You said you'd never seen _In Which We Serve_ and I've got it at home and I was wondering if you'd like to come round and watch it?" It all came out in a rush.

Bart blinked. "Sure." One meeting of film club and he'd already made a friend! Tim would be proud of him. "When?"

"Tomorrow?" Gillian was looking more confident.

"I can't tomorrow," Bart said. "How about Thursday?"

Gillian pulled a face. "My brother's having some friends round on Thursday and they always take over the TV."

"And I'm going away for the weekend, so Friday's out. We could watch it at mine on Thursday?"

"If- If that's okay with Mr Garrick?" Gillian said. "I mean, I don't want to put him out."

"Why would it put him out?" Bart asked blankly.

"He's the _Flash_," Gillian said with hushed reverence.

"Oh, that." Bart shrugged. "If Superman shows up, we'll make him sit in the kitchen."

"_Superman?_" she squeaked. "I can't! Not if Superman's going to show up!"

Bart had never actually realised how much fun it could be to openly know a superhero. "Superman's not going to visit," he reassured her. "The only people Jay ever brings home are the other Flash and Kid Flash."

"Kid Flash?" Gillian asked. "Who's that?"

* * *

"And then she didn't know who Kid Flash was," Bart complained to Joan. "How could she not know who Kid Flash is? I've been Kid Flash for nearly a month! And she'd never even heard of me. _Or_ as Impulse." He put the pile of plates into the cupboard. "Everybody in Manchester had heard of Impulse when I'd been there for a _week_," he muttered.

"It just shows that you're getting more subtle," Joan said, letting the water drain from the sink.

"I don't want to be subtle if it means nobody's heard of me," Bart said mutinously.

"Robin would be proud of you," Joan said, taking the towel out of his hands and folding it neatly on to the towel rail.

Bart felt himself flushing. "So Jay told you."

"You didn't ask him not to," Joan pointed out.

"He hasn't told the JSA, has he?" Bart asked, head filling with horrible images of Jay, Black Canary and Hawkman discussing Bart's love life.

"Just me," Joan said and Bart supposed that was something, though he'd have preferred it if Jay hadn't told _anybody_. "So how did your date go?"

"Lousy," Bart said. "One of T- Robin's friends from school showed up and gatecrashed and we couldn't tell him to go away without making it plain we were on a date and Robin doesn't want to come out at school just yet. So I'm going round to his for dinner tomorrow night instead."

"Thank you for letting me know," Joan said and dropped a kiss on the top of his head.

Bart zipped away and mussed up his hair. "I meant to but I forgot. And can one of my friends from school come round on Thursday to watch a film?"

Joan beamed at that. "Of course. Ask him to stay for dinner and I'll do us something nice."

* * *

Okay, Bart thought, staring at Tim's front door. Apparently Tim wasn't only freaky smart, insanely fit and totally hot. He was also stinking rich.

Of course.

The door swung open to reveal a man who looked nothing like Tim.

"I said _I'd_ get it, Dad," Bart heard Tim say but the man ignored him.

"You must be Bart. It's good to finally meet one of Tim's friends." Tim's dad held his hand out and, when Bart took it, shook Bart's energetically. "Come on in."

Tim shrugged apologetically at Bart and it was really weird to see Tim being so... open. Kind of scary actually.

"Come on through," Tim's dad said, ushering Bart into the living room.

The attractive woman sitting on the couch smiled up at him. "Hello, Bart."

"Hello, Mrs-" Bart had started speaking before realising that he wasn't actually certain about Tim's surname and there was a good chance he was about to let out some big, dark secret and that would probably be bad for the relationship, if they had a relationship, which he wasn't certain about, and perhaps he could zip round the house and find something with a name on before they noticed he'd gone and-

"Oh, call me Dana," the woman said with a smile. "Mrs Drake makes me feel so old."

Saved. Bart beamed with relief.

"Can I get you something to drink?"

"No, thank you." He was going to say as little as he could possibly get away with because he'd _learned_ that sometimes the best way to maintain a cover was to shut up and why hadn't he realised how stressful this was going to be?

"So," Mr Drake said heartily, "what class are you two in?"

Not saved. Not saved at _all_.

"I _told_ you, Dad," Tim said with an air of weary patience. "AP Physics and AP Calc."

"You're a junior? A senior?" Mr Drake said, looking at Bart with some surprise. Bart glanced desperately at Tim.

"You don't listen to a word I say, do you, Dad? Bart's a sophomore. Some kind of freaky genius sophomore."

And that was actually an idea. Maybe Bart should get Jay to see if he could take some AP classes. They'd _have_ to be less boring than what he was doing now.

"Can we go and play computer games now?" Tim asked and he was actually displaying obvious impatience.

"Embarrassed by your old dad?"

"Yes, if you're going to keep talking like that." Tim was all... relaxed. And he was using other-people-normal facial expressions. And Bart was starting to think he'd walked into the wrong house, especially when Jack quickly hugged Tim, who looked ruefully indulgent. "Can we _go_ now?"

"Dinner'll be ready in half an hour," Dana said, "so don't get too caught up."

"We won't. Come on, Bart," and Bart followed Tim up the stairs and into his bedroom. Tim shut the door and leaned back against it. "Well, that went better than expected," he said.

"It did?"

"I thought Dad would keep us downstairs until dinner." He paused. "I hope he's not going to try to keep us down _after_ dinner. We'll just have to plead X-Box if he does. Speaking of which..." He turned on the TV and loaded a disc. "There. Verisimilitude."

Okay, this _was_ Bart's Tim. He grinned.

"And we need to get our stories straight before dinner," Tim continued. "We take AP Physics and Calculus together. You're originally from Alabama, moved here during summer break. I think you live with an uncle but I don't know why. That's all I've told them. Can you remem-" Tim narrowed his eyes. "Of course you can remember that."

"Yeah," Bart said and hoped he _could_ remember because he hadn't really been paying attention. Because this was Tim's bedroom and it wasn't too different to Bart's. Well, apart from being a lot cleaner and tidier. "I can't believe you've got an X-Box. You never join in games at the Tower."

"It was a Christmas present," Tim said and- Well, anybody else would have thudded to the floor but this was Tim so he kind of folded and _melted_ and then he was sitting cross-legged. "Want a game?"

They'd been playing for ten minutes when Tim said, "I'd think computer games would be boring for you. Aren't they a bit slow?"

"_Everything's_ slow," Bart said, concentrating on steering his Porsche 911 round Barcelona's narrow streets. "Computer games are faster than most things. Besides, I grew up in a computer." Tim's Enzo Ferrari span off the road and Bart looked up. "You weren't even _trying_ then."

"Why are you doing this, Bart?" Tim looked serious and Bart had to fight down something that might have been panic.

"Doing what?" he asked suspiciously.

"This. You, me. Dating."

Bart shrugged. "Because," he mumbled.

"That's not an answer."

Bart shrugged again.

"There's got to be better people for you to be interested in. _Safer_ people. Why are you runn-" He shut his eyes and let out a soft breath of laughter. "Why are you running the risk," he continued in a matter-of-fact voice. "You can't even see there _is_ a risk, can you?"

"I knew there was a risk," Bart said, feeling slightly offended. "Why do you think I was so nervous when I asked you out?"

"You'd thought about the risk of two teenage, male vigilantes dating? Both with secret identities to maintain, living in different cities, with no reason for their civilian identities to know each other?"

Oh. That risk. Bart smiled sheepishly.

"Bart." Tim's hand was on his jaw and he was not-smiling. "You're never going to change _that_ much, are you?"

"So why are _you_ running the risk?" Bart asked and it wasn't supposed to sound that sappy.

Tim's face closed off for a moment and Bart wished he hadn't asked. Finally Tim looked up at him. "Because I can trust you," he said slowly. "To look after yourself. To do what you think is right." He smiled and it was a proper smile rather than a not-smile. "Even if I don't agree with you."

And all Bart could think about was the alley and Tim's mouth on his and Tim's hand on his skin and this time there was a _bed_. But there were also Tim's parents downstairs and dinner in half an hour and - and Tim looking at him. "Wanna make out?" Bart said. And that probably wasn't the way you were meant to ask because Tim's mouth twitched.

"We've only got half an hour."

Didn't Tim realise that was forever? "Yeah?" he said cautiously.

And then Tim was kissing him and PGR2 was playing in the background and he'd never be able to play it again without thinking of Tim's tongue and his hands and the way his hair felt against Bart's palms. Bart thought he was probably moving too fast because Tim seemed to be doing everything so slowly but there was no way he could slow down, not with Tim licking the roof of his mouth and Tim's hands stroking his back and he hadn't realised he was being moved but the backs of his knees were bumping against the bed and it was so easy to fall backwards and pull Tim with him.

Tim was so _hard_, all over. Hard and heavy and he felt unbelievably good, sprawled on top of Bart and kissing him with the same type of intense concentration he used for everything important. It made Bart feel like he was a project, like Tim was experimenting to find out exactly what it took to blow Bart's mind. Which was hot. Especially because Tim was going to get a successful conclusion to his experiment any moment now, if he just kept licking Bart's teeth and tongue and lips while the fingers of one hand traced his jaw and the other rubbed his chest.

"Boys!"

Bart jumped and Tim was instantly upright and looking innocent

The door swung open and Dana popped her head in. "Dinner's ready."

* * *

It was nearly nine o'clock when Jack knocked on Tim's bedroom door. Before the first knock had died away, Bart had them both off the bed and seated in front of the TV. By the time Jack opened the door, they were apparently engrossed in their game.

"Just wondering what time you had to be home, Bart."

Bart glanced at Tim's alarm clock. "I probably should be going," he said reluctantly.

"I'll run you home," Jack said. "It's dark out." He smiled. "And Gotham's a bit more dangerous than rural Alabama."

"It's okay, Dad," Tim said easily. "I'll take him. If you trust me with the car?"

"Of course." Jack reached down and ruffled Tim's hair, ignoring Tim's mock snarl. "Off you go, then."

* * *

"That was close," Bart said, fastening his seatbelt.

"Not really. Dad's favourite show starts at nine and he wouldn't want to miss it." Tim pulled out. "Where do you want to live?"

"Where do the millionaires live?"

"Nowhere near Gotham, if they've got any sense."

"Bruce Wayne lives in Gotham," Bart said. "Have you ever met him?"

Tim stilled. "Once or twice."

"Is he as hot as he is in the photos?"

Tim cleared his throat. "I've never really thought about it."

Bart sighed. "I wish Keystone had playboy millionaires. It'd be more fun."

"They're over-rated." Tim parked up in a residential street. "Here you go."

Bart leaned over the handbrake and quickly kissed Tim's mouth. And they'd just spent, like, an _hour_ making out so it shouldn't feel weird but it kind of did. Especially when Tim smiled at him with his eyes and just a little tightening round his mouth. "See you on Friday?" Bart said.

Tim nodded, just a little. "Friday."

"Right." Bart knew he had to go but it was difficult. "Friday. If you need me, you've got my number, right?" Like Tim would need Bart for anything.

"I've got your number." Tim's smile was widening and his eyes were soft. "Now get going."

"Yeah." Bart ducked in for another quick kiss and then managed to point himself towards Keystone and start running.

* * *

Gillian was waiting by Bart's locker at lunch. "I just wanted to check it was still okay for me to come round tonight," she said.

It was kind of tempting to say no and to head back to Tim's house instead, but Tim had told Bart to make friends, so Bart said, "Sure. Joan's got all carried away with cooking."

Gillian looked moderately less anxious. "Flash doesn't mind, does he?"

"What's W-" Bart managed to stop himself in time. "Why would Jay mind?"

Gillian shrugged and didn't say anything.

"And why do you always call Jay Flash?" Bart frowned with thought. "Most people, you say Flash and they automatically think of the one in the cowl."

"I'm from Keystone," Gillian said, as though it explained everything.

"Well, yeah. So are most people here. They still think of the one in the cowl."

"I'm from the same Keystone as Mr Garrick," Gillian said quietly. "I was in the city when it was out of phase."

Bart's mouth dropped open. "So, you were born in, like, 1950?"

Gillian ducked her head. "1946."

"Wow." Bart stared at her. There was somebody else who knew what it was like to be catapulted through time and maybe that was why Gillian was so quiet, because she was never sure how to behave, because not _everybody_ could cope with it like Bart did and-

"It's not _that_ weird," Gillian said. "I mean, I was six when I woke up here."

Bart had been two when he arrived here and it didn't stop it being weird, so he kept on staring until he noticed she was blushing. "Um. We need to arrange where to meet up. What do you have last period? Because I've got physics so it'll take me about two minutes and fourteen seconds to get here, so I'll be here by 2:48 but I don't mind waiting if you're going to be a bit later and-"

"Bart," Gillian said and she was doing a Tim-smile, which looked really weird on her. "I'll meet you here after school."

"That's what I _said_."

"You did," Gillian agreed solemnly and she turned to go.

Bart looked after her for a moment, then opened his locker and tried to work out why two girls were staring at him and giggling.

* * *

"Hello, dear," Joan said and Bart only used a _little_ bit of speed to duck away from her kiss.

"Hello, Mrs Garrick," Gillian said, barely above a murmur.

Joan raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to introduce me, Bart?"

"Huh?" Bart turned his attention away from the smell of cookies baking. "Oh, this is Gillian. She runs the film club. What kind of cookies have you made?"

"It's nice to meet you, Gillian. Come on through and have a cookie." Joan glanced at Bart. "Chocolate chip."

If he'd brought Tim home, Bart thought, he would have been able to speed to get a cookie, even if Joan would have told him off. He was going to invite Tim over for dinner, he decided. Although Tim might want to wear his mask all the time he was here and he thought that might make Jay and Joan feel a bit weird.

"Bart?"

He replayed the last few seconds in his head. "We'll take a plate through to the den. Okay, Gillian?"

"Sure," Gillian said, and she sounded a bit more confident now.

The movie was kind of slow and boring and English but Gillian watched enraptured, mouth moving along with some of the lines. When she caught Bart looking at her, she cleared her throat and shrugged, looking embarrassed.

"I really like this film. It's, like, maybe this is the sort of world I would have grown up in."

Bart squinted at the screen. "I don't think so. Cause you born after the Second World War was over. And Noel Coward's English."

"But maybe people would have been more" She shrugged again and, when she spoke, it was so quiet that Bart could barely hear her. "Noble."

"But there wouldn't have been video games and microwaves and DVD players and everything. I think it would have been pretty sucky, really."

Gillian sighed. "Maybe. But I like to dream."

But reality was way better than dreams, Bart thought, but he didn't like to say anything.

* * *

Gillian was quiet as Bart walked her to the bus stop. They stood waiting, a chill breeze swirling dead leaves around their ankles.

"Where are you going this weekend?" Gillian asked, fiddling with the strap of her bag.

"Um." Saying he was going to San Francisco would sound really noticeable and he was meant to be blending in but Gillian knew he lived with Jay, so it would be understandable for Jay to take him, so perhaps he could say it. "San Francisco. I'm going to visit my boyfriend."

It was only when Gillian's eyes widened that he realised that being gay would probably be pretty noticeable.

"But I'm not, like, _out_ out, so could you keep it quiet?"

"Sure," Gillian said, and she turned away biting her lip. When she looked back, she must have got something in her eyes because they were red and watering a bit. "I'm glad you trust me."

Bart was about to say that he just hadn't been thinking but caught himself. "Of course I trust you." He would have said more but the bus came.

"See you tomorrow, Bart," Gillian said.

Bart watched the bus go and suddenly realised that Gillian had been crying.

* * *

"And I think she might have thought coming over was kind of like a date," he told Tim on Friday evening. "Like when I went over to your place."

Tim wasn't wearing his mask and they were sitting on top of the Tower, legs dangling over the side. Tim rested his chin on his hands and stared off at the horizon. "That must have been awkward."

"If I'd realised," Bart admitted. "But today, she was completely normal and friendly, so I don't think it bothered her too much."

"Really." Tim turned to look at him, and his eyes were warm and smiling.

The breeze lifted Tim's hair and Bart leaned forward to smooth it back into place. "I don't see why it would've."

And then Tim's hand was on his cheek and Tim was kissing him and Bart stopped thinking about Gillian.


End file.
